


Ain't No Thing

by keelywolfe



Series: Synonyms [3]
Category: LazyTown
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 12:26:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9896447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Like all of Robbie's plans, it had seemed like a good idea at the time.





	

* * *

Calling it a failure would be a gross understatement. 

Perhaps disastrous would have been better or even catastrophic. That would have been closer. 

The plan had been simple. Okay, it had been elaborate and convoluted, and it wasn't because he hadn't seen Sportacus in nearly a week, thank you. It was no concern of Robbie's that he hadn't made a return trip to his lair with another bag lunch held out in dismal offering. That after a week of spying on the children and plotting, not once had Sportacus come to sit with him in the park after the sun had gone down. 

It wasn't because of any of that that Robbie had come up with the Anti-Sportinator 3000 to suck up all the sports equipment in town. If there were no sports equipment, then the children couldn't play, and then Sportacus would show up and—well, anyway, once Sportacus was there he could chase him out of town! 

It had all made sense at the time.

What he hadn't counted on was the contraption overheating. His own fault for recycling sub-par parts. He also hadn't counted on not noticing it had overheated until it was whistling alarmingly and if Sportacus hadn't noticed it, well, Robbie would probably have more than just a few bruises from getting knocked to the ground by an overenthusiastic rescue. 

Bruises on his bruises, Robbie decided as he sat up with a groan, staring at the smoldering remains of his Anti-Sportinator with resignation. Well, every plan couldn't be a masterpiece. A pair of blue-clad legs appeared in his peripheral vision and he waited glumly for a hand to help him up, for a song and a dance, and tomorrow was another day. 

One moment, another, and no hand came, no offer of help and finally Robbie looked up in wary confusion, wondering if another hero had shown up when he wasn't looking with the same sense of style as the one they already had. It was Sportacus, of course it was, only he was strangely pale, hands clenched and his lips pressed in a thin, tight line. He didn't offer Robbie a hand, didn't cartwheel off to play with the children; he only stood there. 

The children seemed oblivious to the tension, clattering over to them, all excitement and chatter, and accusing shouts of Robbie's name. For once, Sportacus did not spare them a look or a smile, did not take his gaze from Robbie's. 

"Kids, go play," Sportacus cut through their rambunctious shouts with a single curt order, one that they obeyed with bewildered murmurs. Only Pinkie looked back with evident worry, but she still joined her friends, leaving the two of them alone with the barely smoking remains of the Anti-Sportinator 3000. 

Robbie cleared his throat, uncertain what to say but not willing to sit in silence for the rest of the day. Before he could manage a single far-fetched excuse or rambling explanation, Sportacus reached down and took hold of his wrist, hauling him to his feet and Robbie could either follow or let Sportacus take off his arm at the shoulder. 

"Hey!" Robbie spluttered, stumbling after him. His legs might be longer but Sportacus was close to dragging him along. "Now…see here... I... stop!"

Robbie was so surprised when Sportacus did that he almost fell but Sportacus let him go instantly. Scowling, Robbie rubbed his wrist, absently noticing that despite his force, there wasn't so much as a red mark on it. Had to give the Elf credit, he did know his strength. 

A glance at said Elf showed Robbie a muscle working in his jaw and he realized Sportacus was gritting his teeth. Whatever he wanted to say, he settled on grinding out, "Come with me."

"I don't know why I should, hauling me off like a shopping bag—"

" _Please_ ," Sportacus said and something in that single word, something desperate and urgent made Robbie pause. Sportacus was still a shade paler than normal; the only real color in his face were hectic spots of red on his cheeks, not a normal healthy glow but splotchy and uneven. 

With a sigh, Robbie held out his hand limply and didn't protest when Sportacus snatched it back up and dragged him along. It was only when he called out for a ladder that Robbie dug his heels in. 

"Oh, no, no, I am not going up in that contraption!"

"Close your eyes," Sportacus ordered him, like he was one of those overeager little brats. And, damning himself, Robbie did it, he closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch himself get hauled up a rope ladder like a sack of groceries by a lunatic. 

It said something about his life that this was only the second worst thing that had happened to him today.

* * *

Ten harrowing minutes later and Sportacus all but shoved him to sit in a chair that rose straight up from the floor and wasn't that intriguing? It made Robbie want to crouch down and poke at the mechanics of it, ask Sportacus questions about how it all worked. 

But maybe on a day when Sportacus was less... weird. He looked grim, his lips still pinched white. He dug out a small box out of the shelves in the wall and Robbie heard tearing paper.

"Hold still," he said brusquely, crouching down in front of Robbie. He rubbed something wet and strong-smelling against Robbie's cheek. He yelped as it stung, trying to jerk away. 

"What are you doing?!"

Sportacus held up the cloth and Robbie could see streaks of crimson. "You have a few little cuts. They aren't bad. Now let me do this before they get infected."

"Oh," Robbie said weakly. "I suppose that was from the shrapnel."

"Yes, I suppose it was," Sportacus said tightly. He worked in silence, scrubbing the small wounds clean and taping a bandage over Robbie's cheek. A minute's work to tidy it all up left them with Robbie still sitting and Sportacus pacing the airship, muttering beneath his breath in another language and even if he'd been directing those words at Robbie, he couldn't understand them.

"Well?" he snapped out, "I'm still here, are we finished then?"

"You could have died." Low and sudden, the words hanging in the air between them.

That took him aback. Robbie blinked up at Sportacus, mouth dropping open.

"You could have…you could have been killed." He took a shaky breath, and his hat, an oft-made casualty lately, was tugged off so Sportacus could scrub an impatient hand through his hair. 

Technically, that was true. A bit of an overstatement, really, he probably would have just ended up with great bodily harm that was likely survivable.

"I didn't."

"You could have!" Something hot was in Sportacus's eyes, a strange shine that Robbie had never seen before and he looked away before Robbie could study it too closely. He didn't say anything else, didn't yell at Robbie to never do it again, didn't scold or threaten. He just paced and Robbie watched him silently. 

Finally Sportacus took a deep, slow breath, let it out, and moved to stand before Robbie. 

Opened his mouth and Robbie could see the digression of his thoughts, the way he hesitated, his eyes dropping lower and his gaze settling on Robbie's mouth. Whatever he'd been going to say or do fell aside as Sportacus abruptly surged forward and caught hold of the front of Robbie's shirt, dragging him up for a rough kiss. 

It wasn't their first kiss, not their second, and by the third time, it was a habit. A terrible habit that Robbie had let himself fall into and even though it was a mistake, he let himself drown in the taste of Sportacus's mouth. Soft lips, flavored with desperation, and his arms slid around Robbie, holding him too-close and too-hard and simply perfect. 

He didn't know how things worked in this flying death trap but suddenly there was the softness of a mattress beneath him and Sportacus was anything but soft on top of him. His tongue was as quick and strong as the rest of him, equally coaxing and demanding against Robbie's and he gave back as good as he could, tasting apples and pleading. 

It was Robbie who finally broke the kiss, sprawling back on the blankets to gasp for breath. Sportacus didn't even seem winded because of course he didn't, the bastard, and that hot shine still in his eyes, something unreadable or maybe Robbie simply didn't want to look too closely. He twisted his fists into the mussed blankets as Sportacus abruptly stripped off his shirt and vest, tossing it heedlessly to the ground. The sheets slipped in his tightening grip as Sportacus shifted off him to kick off his shoes as well, skinning his pants down those strong thighs and shapely calves and great blasted heavens above he was naked. Sportacus was crawling back on top of him as naked as a cherub and he looked like a god, all smooth skin and shifting muscle. 

He didn't give Robbie much of a chance to look, much less touch, already yanking on Robbie's clothes with far too little care for expensive fabric. "You now," Sportacus said urgently, buttons straining as he tugged on Robbie's vest, "Let me see you."

Robbie swallowed thickly, "I should warn you I don't look anything like that." He managed a gesture to convey not just all of Sportacus but all that he was, lean compact muscle and delectably smooth skin. He couldn't have resisted the urge to smooth a hand down that bare flank if the Mayor himself had burst into the room. Soft, soft bare skin, that Sportacus could look like that and feel like this and smell so good and Robbie was so…not. The unfairness of the universe was staggering.

"I don't want you to look like this," Sportacus's voice deep and low, almost a growl and Robbie shivered helplessly, "I want you to look like you! Please, let me. Let me see you."

Well, how could he say no to that? Robbie pushed at Sportacus shoulders, shoving him off or at least indicating where he needed Sportacus to go. Maybe Sportacus was happy to shove his clothes to wrinkle on the floor but Robbie had higher standards than that. He started with his cuffs, unbuttoning and unfastening every article of clothing and folding each neatly. To his bemusement, a small side table rose from the floor, the silent invitation obvious, and he laid his clothes out on it. At least Sportacus's home had some manners. 

Shoes, then socks, and all that was left were his trousers. Only then did Robbie dare to actually look at Sportacus, wondering at what he saw with those too-blue eyes. Robbie wasn't a sports Elf, he wasn't all tanned muscles, biceps as round as baseballs and thighs like tree trunks. Robbie was leaner, tall, and he wasn't unattractive, thank you, just probably not what Sportacus was accustomed to and--

Oh. 

There was something immensely flattering about having a gorgeous creature staring at you with dark, heated eyes, lips parted and breathing in sharply as Robbie slid his trousers down and off. Nothing at all beneath them and when Sportacus began to reach for him, Robbie stopped him with a sharp glare. Folded his trousers carefully, sharpening the crease, before laying them with the rest of his clothes. His fingertips had barely left the cloth and he was being hauled backwards into strong arms, settled into a naked lap and surrounded by Sportacus.

"You smell so good, you always smell good," Sportacus whispered into his hair, his neck. A wet mouth followed, as if he wanted to see if Robbie tasted as good as he smelled. Damp, hot breath against his skin, and Robbie choked back a moan that shifted to a yelp as Sportacus set the edge of his teeth into the thin skin there.

Robbie hissed, wincing, "Why do you always bite?!"

"Because you like it," Sportacus murmured it into his ear, sucking on his earlobe and nibbling, "You sigh and shiver and whimper and you get—" He pressed a hand against Robbie's belly, sliding lower to his hardness and trailing his fingers over the length in a too-light touch. "You like it."

Difficult to argue that, really, difficult to argue anything and Sportacus was pushing him down insistently, a wealth of bare, hot skin against him as he lay on his belly. Sportacus was heavy on him, his own hardness hot and damp against the small of Robbie's back. It made him want to squirm, arch his hips up and beg wordlessly for more and he couldn't think of a reason why he shouldn't. 

A groan vibrated against the nape of his neck, teeth grazing, and hands slid down his sides, cupping his hips. Urging him to move more, maybe, pleading for him, and Robbie obeyed helplessly, writhing and shifting, rubbing into nubby fabric of the sheets beneath him and upwards into infinitely softer, hotter skin.

"Hold still," Sportacus rumbled above him, an order Robbie promptly ignored because he wasn't a damn dog. Then he obeyed it in shock at the sharp click of a plastic bottle top and the sudden touch of slick fingers against his backside. That was…yes, that was what he wanted, a finger sliding into him with surety. Thick and perfect, curving and searching in him until it found a place inside him that made him quiver, mouth open in a wordless cry. Another finger and that was a strain, not quite painful, and Robbie only spread his legs wider in invitation. The stretch of it felt indescribably good, sliding implacably inward and then out, opening him.

"Have you done this before?" Robbie didn't answer and Sportacus stilled, fingers still deep inside. With a sound of frustration, Robbie tried to move on his own, pushing up into him and a hand settled into the small of his back, holding him still. 

"Have you?" Again, more insistently.

Robbie buried his burning face into the pillow, muttering into the fabric, "What will you do if I say no?"

"I might be gentler."

"Then I've done this hundreds of times, don't stop!"

The hand on his back shifted, replaced by a kiss, wet and soft. "I wasn't going to stop."

"Then hurry up!"

"No," Another kiss, followed by a messy swipe of tongue, "This must be done properly, you'll be glad I did."

It seemed to take forever, until Robbie was gasping out cries with every press of those fingers into him. Sportacus was relentless, soothing his pleas and yet only that same slow in and out slide of his fingers in him.

An eternity later Sportacus finally withdrew them, nudged his knees further apart, settling between them, and there was thick, blunt pressure against him. The first push was uncomfortable and Robbie would admit at least to himself that Sportacus was right, he was glad for the preparation, glad for the slippery lube easing the way. He rose up onto his knees, spreading his legs wider, and that made it better, breathing in as Sportacus eased into him. He felt huge and strange and incredible. 

Dimly, Robbie realized that Sportacus was shaking against him, heaving in great gulps of air and trembling. His arms were tight around Robbie, clutching him against Sportacus's chest and…oh. Oh, he'd always thought the one on top had the power but...

"I have you," Robbie blurted out, uncertain if he was reassuring him or only stating a fact.

Low, shaky voice against his ear, "You've always had me."

It was nothing like Robbie had imagined, if he'd ever admit to anyone, even himself, that he'd dreamed of this. Sportacus moving against him, within him, a little too quick, too hard, and somehow exactly what he wanted anyway. Hips rocking against him and hands surely leaving bruises as he clutched at Robbie, his arms, his hips, moving him however Sportacus wanted, and Robbie just let him. Utterly pliable, sprawled into apple-scented sheets and letting Sportacus take what he needed because it seemed like that was exactly what Robbie needed, too. 

If he expected finesse or grace, he would have been sorely disappointed but only a fool would fail to appreciate the trembling eagerness of Sportacus losing control against him, sweet, sharp moans spilling from his mouth. A hand fumbled past his hip, grip firming around him and the hard friction of a palm around him coupled with the feeling of Sportacus coming inside him is enough, is perfect, and Robbie spilled hotly into that grip, letting all his moans tumble free into the air around them.

The sheets were damp with sweat and sex, and Robbie couldn't work up enough energy to care. He did manage a hiss as Sportacus eased out of him, yeah, that was a little sore and uncomfortably sticky.

"Hold still," Sportacus pressed a kiss to his shoulder and was gone. Now was the time to feel awkward, alone and bare-assed in a sparkling white flying watermelon, and for one moment panic was thick in his throat, what was he doing here, he didn't belong here and--

The sudden touch of a cool, wet cloth felt good past just being clean. It sent his mind blank and all Robbie could do was sigh and let Sportacus wipe him gently clean. The light touch of a finger against him made Robbie tense a little, "If you think you're going to go again --"

"No, no," Sportacus hushed him with a kiss to the forehead, "I only wanted to make sure I didn't hurt you."

"You didn't," Robbie grumped. Then sighed with deep aggravation as Sportacus tossed the wet cloth aside and slid back into the bed, tugging the sheets over them both. It was a tight squeeze and Robbie had had enough of being the little spoon. He rolled over and now it was his turn to tug on Sportacus, arranging him how he wanted for a change and he ignored the bemused look on his damned too-handsome face. 

"So you've done this before, then," Robbie asked and that little twinge in his chest was not jealousy, thank you very much.

"Yes," Sportacus said simply, and tipped his head up to give Robbie a wry grin. "When you're in good shape, you are in good shape everywhere. Do you see what I mean?"

"Not really."

"Elves have a high sex drive. Sex is good and healthy if you're safe," Sportacus said bluntly. Robbie hadn't even noticed if they'd been safe, to put it euphemistically, though he supposed he should have known. Sportacus was hardly one to ignore any safety measures. "And I've been to many other places than Lazytown."

Leaving aside his mental image of a village of elves constantly boning… "What have you been doing since you got here, then?"

"I've become very familiar with my shower," Sportacus said dryly. "Lazytown doesn't quite have the options of larger cities."

"So that's what I am, then. The only option in town." Well, it was nice to have it confirmed, anyway.

Abruptly, Sportacus was looming over him, pinning him back to the bed and even that grip was gentle, easily broken if Robbie resisted. He didn't.

"Do not say that about yourself," Sportacus told him, low and angry, "Never say that."

"You really do like me." It was like a revelation, here in this white room, pinned by Sportacus's hands and blue eyes alike. His hair was still sweaty and tousled, the very tips of his ears poking through the blond curls. 

"I've said I do, haven't I?"

"Yes, but—" _I didn't believe you_ didn't seem to be the right thing to say.

"Do you think I would do this with you if I didn't?"

"No, but—"

"I'm not the villain, Robbie."

That stung, sharper than expected, "Oh so you're saying I would?"

"Are you?"

Robbie opened his mouth and realized how neatly he was trapped, if he said yes then he was doing exactly what he'd accused Sportacus of and if he said no he was admitting, he may as well be saying—

The pressure eased on one of his wrists and Sportacus gently laid a finger across his lips. "You don't need to say it, Robbie."

_But you already know._

Sportacus settled back down, laying his head on Robbie's chest. "I'll take you home if you want. But you could stay."

He supposed that Sportacus could hear his heartbeat, wondered if he'd notice it increase in speed or skip or whatever it was that hearts did. "I'm restless at night."

"It won't bother me."

Robbie didn't reply. He raised a hand and settled it at the nape of Sportacus's neck, fingers just brushing the softness of his hair. Listened to his quiet sigh as Robbie traced his hairline to his ears, stroking that little point, let his hand drift down to smooth over Sportacus's back, trace the intricate lines of his spine. Not a scar or a blemish, nothing but perfect skin. 

He could still see the reddish glow of the setting sun but Robbie closed his eyes, anyway. Whatever other catastrophes were waiting for him, they could hold off until tomorrow. 

-finis-


End file.
